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-~-^~ " ~~ " " ' CHARLESTON, CHRISTMAS EVE, DECEMBER 24, 1S70. . "
Mark Tivuin'.s Last.
TilUlSH ACKS.
jim T0r>d"3 ep150dk ix social b'jciiks.
I don't go much on little games of kecrds plarcd
with a stranger,
Seaco?darned ijalboi :?i tool: a hand uu board
the XatChez Ranger,
With three smooth chaps that said they'd li!:e to
pass the time away
In a little social euchre, or some such barm less
play.
I never had such luck afore, in any spot or place;
My hand was frequently lousy with bo;!t bowers
and the ace.
Tho chap next to me said, "If we was ptaj la this
for lucre
You'd bust, us sure ! we're lucky that its only
social euchre P
Bimo bye the chap ou tit 2 totiier .side, sea he, "If
this was poker
And l could diskeered two keerds, I'd have a lit
tle joker;
I'd back my three remalaiu' kecrds for all X coals
afford.
Agin three kecrds ia any hand there Is around
this board !"
I looked mine over. Rich ? You bet ! 1 gin a
chuckle merry,
And know'd 1 hail him! "Cap," sez 1, "you air
my huckleberry V '
Then each of us dlskcci?kd two, I h id all aces
back,
And I know'd them would lay over any three
kecrds m the pack !
Soft thin ? l gucsH not! "Cap," sez I, "jest
name it If you please !"
Sez he, "wal, since you are so kind, l'il chip a Y
on these !"
"Jes so." sez I, "I see your V and go two X's
better "
"That's jest my Hx,''hv. he, " I'm bound that i
wont be yon debtor."
To cut it short, 1 went for him, East as a little
wagon.
I had a snrc thing?jus', the hand to moke a lint
Old "brag'" on.
My poid got dry. He "called" me. I spread
thorn aces uur.
And reached Tor that Uur "pot," I guess, without
a llngerin' donbr.
"Hold on !" sez he. "them arc not, good.'' Ses I,
"theyoan'tbo beat
By uo three keerds. Then aces must be jest as
good as wheat !"
' Wal here's three elobs?a lln h." sez he, "a Hash
will still beat threes.
And capture your three aces and the 'pot' with
periect ease !"
Tlucked? Now you're talkin'! 1 was plucked as
any K.xise i
I woulit liev ?t, but I soon seed it wouldn't be no
use:
Them three smooth chaps was on It, an 'wasn't
skeered at danger.
Since then I don't, go much on s tflal mehre with
ast.r<imrer i [Cam Byku.
[Uvffalo Express:
SHOT TO DEATH.
AN [INCIDENT OF THE CAMPAIGN
OF >V,3.
By Francis Warrfngton.
IX CAMP.
The Army of Northern Virginia had fought
through the second Maryland campaign. Get
tysburg was lost. Ylcksburg had fallen. There
was weeping and lamentation in ten thousand
Southern homes, and the hearts ol our people
were oppressed with sorrow and with care.
Wearily and sadly "ihe barefooted boys" ol
the Confederate army had tramped along the
dusty roads ot the Valley ol" Virginia, and now
they lay In camp near quiet Orange Court
house. A week or two of rest and quiet, an
Improved commissariat, and a promise Irom
tho plausible quartermaster, bad raised the
spirits of both oiCcers and men. The sword
or the South was ag:0 u keen and briucUU mid
where was the laggard who did not yearn for
another bout with the foe ?
As a staff olllcer In the "Old First Corps"/!
had managed to make ruysell tolerably com
fortable. Virginia tobacco und a philosophical
spirit had something to do with my habitual
equanimity, and as J lay thai August, evening
under a teut-fly, In the woods of Orange, there
wim no heavier care on my soul than was sug
gested by the appetizing simmer of the vesper
bacon. No one was with me bur my old churn
and fellow-olllcer, Charlie Vcrnon, who had
been my bosom Irtond siuce lue chances et ser
vice first threw us together. We had rolled in
the same blanket. We had drunk from the
same canteen. Charlie had helped me to dis
pose of an obstinate Michigauder cavalryman.
And I had?well, never mind about that.
Charlie was deeply and desperately blue.
^ After many attempts he had succeeded in get
ting a lorty-eight hours" leave, and was oil' like
a shot?about eight miles an hour in those
days?to Richmond. But the bright buttons
and untarnished lace of C. S. and Q. M. were
more potent than the stained grey jacket, bat
tered hat aud dingy boots of a man 01 duty lu
the Held. Charlie Was unceremoniously Jilted,
and gave himself up to the gloomy delights oi
despair. Nothing that I could say brightened
his lace or lightened Iiis heart. The blow,
foor boy ! wos""moro than he conid bear, and
wondered how It would all end as he tossed
to and fro ia tue shadow of the pines. Sud
denly springing to his loot, he cried out?
Jack ! I can't stand this any longer. Ex
citement I must have. Action, work, motion
?anything to carry me beyond myself."
My only reply was in the sjiape of an Invita
tion "to take a pipe."
"You are a uulsauce, Jack ! You have no
more feeling thau an old stump."
"Perhaps."
"You don't care a straw for any woman.
What would I give if I could only say the
same !"
"My son ! The motto of Captain J. C. Bever
ley ls short aud to the purpose?it: Heine est
Morte. Vive la Heine. True ! I did meet a
girl In old Sussex, not so long ago, who might
nave ina^e me forget myselt, but she is some
where in Mosby's Confederacy, and 1 never ex
pect to see her again."
Just at this point our colloquy was Interrupt
ed by the arrival of a courier from headquar
ters with a message that General Longs' reel
wished to see me immediately. It was not far
to "Old Pete's"' tent, and when f returned
Charlie saluted me with a volley of questions.
My reply was to yell out to my boy' Aleck to
feed and saddle my horse, and that ol'Lieuten
ant Vernon, as rapidly as possible.
Lighting my pipe, 1 condescended to unbur
den myself In these words:
"You want to know what "Old Pete' is after
now, eh ! In truth, I do not know muca about
It myself, except that all our Hug-Hoppers are
out ol the way, and Lieutenant-Ceuerai James
Lougstreet has entrusted me with a highly im
portant dispatch, which I am to deliver to a
friend ot ours beyond tho lines. The trip is a
rather risky one," but"?
"Oh, Jack ! let me go in yoiu* place. I have
nothing to lose, no ties, uo one to care whether
I live or not."
"I did not forget you, and the general has
given me permission to take you with me.
There is your pass?it is signed by to alter Tay
lor, like mine. Sorrel says that is all we shall
want."
Vernon fairly leaped with joy. looking more
like his old self than he had doue since that
woeful trip to Richnioud.
ox TUE uoad.
A very lrugal supper was dispatched, and
when we had strapped a blanket and oil cloth
behind our saddles we were ready for the
road. Our horses were iresh and iii fine con
dition, and we started off at-a steady trot.
We had ridden some distance, when Vernon
suddenly wheeled his horse and galloped lack
towards our camp. Even this did not surprise
me, but I was astonished when he came
whooping after uie with it huge Chicopee sabre
(raptured from the Mlchigunaer) clattering at
his heels.
"Surely, yon are not going to lake that
noisy rattle-trap with you ? Two pistols each
ought to be enough for men who must trttsl
more to their wits than their muscle."
"That sabre goes, or I do not."
"Well, iio not !"
"I do not mean that exactly. Lui I crave a
hearty, straightforward, whule-soulod lick at
"somebody" with this old sabre; though, to
tell tho truth, my swordmausldii is mure
main strength anil awkwardness "than any
thing else."
There'the argument ended, and we rode si
lently on. We were well mounted. My com
panion rodu a powerful black horse?clean
limbed, full-chested, with small, nervous ears,
and quick, bright eyes. Charlie had dubbed
him Satan. The name was wed deserved, for,
/? ei? a non huxndo, his Satanic Majesty was
nearly unmanageable under fire. My uWI1
horse" was known throughout the corps lor his
remarkable.speed and graceful form. Dear
Sultan was steady as a rock under lire. The
TrWfcry storm at Gettysburg hardly made him
prick his ears. He was thoroughly broken,
and would obey the lightest touch of heel or
hand, as wed as t he sound oi my voice.
It was morning when we reached Sperry
ville, where we rested all day. Chester Gap
and front Royal were held by the enemy, so
we crossed the Ridge at Gravelly Gap. lorded
the sparkling Shenandoah?Fair Daughter or
the Stars?and by sunrise were traveling down
the Valley. There were burned barns, torn
fences, fields laid waste, mills destroyed, but
Sheridan had not yet swept like a devout ing
flame over the garden ot Virginia, the hearts
of the people were as t rue as steel, and there
w;is abundant loot! and shelter lor the errant
Confederate soldier.
Ail our ingenuity was tasked to elude the
federal patrols, but wo passed White Post."
and Millwood unobserved, flanked a picquet,
and recrossed the Ridge. Now we were fairly
within the enemy's lines.' My dispateh was
learned by heart by both of tis, and hidden
about my persou. I told Charlie my whole in
s ruction.-, and explained that the dispatch
titust not be allowed to fall into the hands of
the enemy. Then we pushed on.
At Uppervllle, we learned mat I ho road
(hence u> Leesburg where there was aFedo
ia! garrison, was generally clear, although
squads of cavalry "patrolled it. every day or
two, paying Hying visits to Uppervillo. Paris
and Middleburg, in search of the 'pestiferous"
Mo.-by aud his men.
qui VIVE ! I
The morning was bright aud clear, and we I
were both encouraged" by the good-fortune
which had at tended us. Along each side of j
the road was a ragged stone fence, 'f tirough
the woods beyond stole the glinting rays of the
rising sun.
Vernon was unusually depressed. The aid
matlon of the liest day's rule had wholly dis-1
appeared, and now he was as gloomy as a j
pauper's funeral. The boy had too much heart
lor these tough times. A sel lied sorrow hud
come upon his life, and it was little ccnsolutiou
to know ihat she who duped him was bearing
the dull torment of au unloving marriage.
Our horses, strangely enough, were restless
aud uneasy. A stroke of the spur was all that
their whinneying brought them, A turn iu
the road w-s a few yards off, and there we
hoped to rind a house where we might learn
the slato oi affairs In Leesburg. Straw was
scattered along the fence; a broken gate lay
across the road; but little we heeded theui
until the sharp, click ol'a carbine lock, and
the loud challenge. Halt ! Jell with startling
distinctness upon the silent morning air. Di
stantly all our senses were on. the alert. We
were in a mess?no doubl of It. A lew paces
in front, in a fence corner, stood two Federal
soldiers, with levelled carbine-. So lar, our
blue overcoat-s had deceived them. They did
not lire. Our Qrst thought was to dash ul
them - Ihey were but two; but a second glance
showed us the reserve picket not more than a
hundred yards behind. And. more distant
still, a bugle was sounding "boot and saddle."
All this flashed through the brain In an in
stant. The picket challenged us?W/icobmcs
there ? My mind wrfs made up, Charlie. I
felt, was ready. Gathering up my bridle reins,
[ answered?God forgive me !?Friends. The
'pickets ..carelessly lowered ilieir carbines.
"Now for it, Chanie," I cried. "Hide tor vour
life !"
Uur horses wheeled with the- rapidity of
lightning, and away we sped at n sweeping
gallop. Fortunately, "the Yanks" were not
armed with the nuw-iangicd sixteen shoot
ers, of which they gave us a taste later In the
w;;r. A brace of bullets hummed harmlessly
over heads, and oh we went at n glorious
rate. Aye ! and it did my heart good to press
Sultan's heaving flanks, as he devoured the
ground with his vigorous stride. I looked at
Charlie. The devil-may-care look was again
in his fice, and as we tore along he gaily
whistled a song.
Tb-- Fodonil ea.1 .ilry tbiuulexud boblml. Xhoy
yelled like demons, aud wasted many an ounce
of lead: but their government slock was no
match lor our Virginia thoroughbreds ami we
forged steadily ahead. Vye were now near the
Cross Roads; reach thai point and we are sale.
Tiie Cross Roads is but a pace or two from us,
and turning in my saddle I lake a pot-shot at
our pursuers. Then rang out Charlie's clear
voice :
' Hurrah ! for Old Virginia, .lack. That was
what you might call touch-and-go.'1
I was about, to reply When he suddenly
checked his horse.
".-.od Cod ! old Icllow, there's a whole com
pany ol Yanks riding along the fence.".
Fora moment we despaired, but our blood
was up, and our horses, excited by tho run,
were equal to any exertion. Swerving from
the road, before the new-comers had time to
lire, we rushed our horses at the heavy fence,
and, with a yell, tore through the woods. The
Jump was loo much for Federal nerves. One
detachment rode up to the fence ami tired at
our retreating selves, while another hastily
made a gup lor their comrades lo scramble
through.
AT DAY.
We knew nolhing of the country, and the
pursuing cavalry gained upon us rapidly. The
pickets whom we Bret encountered were riding
diagonally towards us to cut ort' our advance.
All t he consequences ofcapt ure Hushed through
my mind?loss ol reputation, injury lo the.
cause, and a long imprisonment in a Northern
prison.
"Good bye ! Charlie. We are lost."
"Never suy die, old boy ! .Tump the fence.
There's an open field beyond. There we can,
at least, have a lair run und diu gaine."
It was done, and we dashed across I lie
field. Hiillet alter bullet whistled by and did
uo harm. Suddenly Satan, making a convulsive
spring, staggered and fell, carrying his rider
with hin!.
I sprang from my horse. Charlie was un
j hurt. No word needed to pass between us;
i our resolve needed uo expression. We must
I die, but die together. The dispatch was de
stroyed, and when I had grasped his true
f hand, and looked upon his face, now bright
and joyous, I was ready for the woi-^r.
As soon as the enemy saw our plight, eight
J or ten ot them dismounted and advanced on
foot. The rest ol the crew rode slowly and
cautiously towards us. True, there were only
t wo ot us, but there might bo an ambuscade
or a masked battery or a Mosby In the neigh
borhood.
An officer who was hugging the fence, call
ed out to us to surrender. We laughed in his
lace. Then, the whole party fired upon us.
One bullet pierced Charlie's hat; another plung
ed through my overcoat?originally Uncle
Sam's properly." "'hey llred lo little purpose.
At last their officer fairly blushed, and ordered
them lo "close in and "finish the-rebels."
They came up. We lired togetherand two
fell. A moment, more and they were upon us.
Two stalwart soldiers made tit. me. I tired?
missed; Bred again?and one was done for.
Tho other aimed a desperate blow at my head. I
Hurling my empty pistol in his lace I grappled
w:ih him. * Ills hot breath was on my cheek;
his eyes glared Into mice. Down he went, and
I with him. AS I Staggered to my feet, a
mounted man rode up behind me. My head
seemed crushed; 1 dropped to the ground; but i
iu Hi" last, moment of conscioiuuiess it seemed
that I heard the clear ring ot Charlie's defiant
voice, ami saw Lite (lashing of a sabre.
IN VIXCUIJS.
When I struggled back to my senses, 1
knew not whether weeks or months had passed
since that memorable morning. Gradually my
sight grew clear, and I found that I was lying
on the Hour lu a small whitewashed room.
The slanting shadows were marking Ihe dull
widl with fanciful lines and angles/ My head
throbbed violently, and, raising my band, 1
louud that my temples were swathed in band
age.*. An uiiiiiisuikeable bhieeuat stood near
ihe door, und. us I moved, hemuirered a curse
upon the rebels.
Where was Charlie ? II. was useless to ask
riie "boy in blue" hail no Lime to Waste in talk.
Heven dollars a month could not pay for
politeness I o a helpless prisoner.
When I again came to myself I felt dial,
soiue one wiis near me. Kaintly and wisllitlly
1 culled lor Charlie. The only answer was :i
Rlsrh. but surely a tear plashed heavily on mj
cheek, li was uo dream. A fair young girl
knell i>y my side?the-sweet Annie".Lylo, with
whom 1 nail wandered so ollen through the
qniel wood-<>( Sussex. And what a meeting.
1?a wounded prisoner. She-a tenant by
sufferance of her once pleasant home. Hul she
had not changed. She was still the graceful.
SOnlte, truthful Southern womari. Clasping
her hand I implored tidings of him I loved.
For long ray pleading was in vain, but at length
she consCBtcd to take me to him. Supported by
lier arm I tottered into an adjoining room.
There he lay, colorles.s as the lily1 and as fair
placid as tlie mountain lake over which is
brooding the shadow of the storm. A smile
fluttered on his lips as he saw me. He was
dying. We were alone, and throwing my
arms round his neck, I cried like a child. He
comforted me und cheered me ! Ho gave me
loving words ol promise and of hope ! And at
the last moment all the pent-up tenderness ot
his nature burst forth; it was a sadly curious
mingling of deepest feeling and sportive hu
mor?a strange blending of the dolours of love
and the glories of war.
"And "tell her, Ja 1c, Hint my last thought
was o? lier. She was right. Tell her not to
blame any. one but Ulis poor me. She did like
me once a little; perhaps she will sometimes
think oi him who loved too well to be loved in
return. Jack! Juck! I?hit that big Yankee]
square un ihe head he fell like a beet.*"
His strength was lading rapidly. I gave him
water, and wiped ihe clammy moisture from
his luce.
"God knows," he continued, "that no roan
ever loved woman more fondly than I loved
her. And she kissed me and said she would
be my wife. II It could have been ! I knew
her so well. And she jilted ino. But he cannot
make her happy as I could have dune, though
he twine her iieck with Orient, pearls, and
cuain will! gold the autumn sunlight tangled I
in her hair. As it Is, all that is left ino lo?to
tlie. (live her this ring; a poor companion for
her diamonds, you will say. Ask her to wear
it. for my sake; perhaps she will do that for
me. Anil when she? Normal u-r. lam calmer
now. 1 do not repine; ami yet to die?so soon.
Never to sec her again; never to hear the yell
of our gallant boys; never to fight beneath that
tallered Mag whose every rout and stain Is a
glorious epic of war. .May (Jod comfort lier.
They may say what they will, I loved her to
the lost."
He tainted, and before an hour.liad passed
his pure, lofty and uenerous spirit had (flown
to tlie seat, of Infinite Mercy and Love.
Ami then they told me that when I fell my
horse ran up to me, and ihat by jumping upon
him, in tho confusion, Charlie might, have
made his escape. But he threw himself across
my body, and there fought like a Paladln, I
until he was shot, in the back by one of his
valiant foes.
WKfUIIBD IN TilK IIALAXCR.
Lecsburg was near, why was I riot sent J
there ? Only a dozen men remained at the
advance post; but I knew that the lieutenant.
j commanding the detachment was awaiting
I some important order.
[ Early the next morning. I heard the clatter
or a horse's hoofs on the hard road, and soon
afterward a Federal ofllcer entered the room
whore I moodily lay. of course, he did not-1
condescend to "take oil his luit or how, but,
throwing himself upon the solitary chair, lie
said:
"vVhat Is your name, ran'; and duty ?"
I gave him these particulars, adding that I
had the honor ol belonging to the military fami
ly ot Lieutenant General James Lougstrect, I
whose name he had perhaps heard before.
' What are you doing so far from your com
mand ?"
"I am on special duty."
"What is it,, and where are your orders ?"
"I cannot answer your first question, and as
to the second, my orders were verbal, su thai
I have not a scrap of | aper ot any kind about
me to show what I am."
Ho remained silent, biting Iiis lips lor a
moment, ami then said:
"Tills game won't do; il has been played
once too oitcn. We had determined to make I
an example of I he first man of your command
that we could catch, and It's rallier unlucky j
for your friends thai we happened on you."
This annoyed, rather than alarmed me.
"For what de you take me, sir--a spy ?"
"And worse !"
"For General Lne. perhaps, or Mr. Davis V
"i know you. You are one of itosby's dam
nable gang of thieving, murdering guerillas !
"Well, sir; and what have they done to ex
cite your wrath ?"
"Done! what have they nut done? We I
haven't a moment's res!. They are here, there
ninl everywhere. Whei over thy see a head
ihi?y lot tr. at;.I cr.i gonu !>. !..r. ?ov-.no gt-t ui I
tlieid. A wagon caiiimi go a mile out of camp
without being capturai by Afosby. A scorning
(Kitty goes out and don? come buck?wtiHuretl
by Maiby. Our officers are seized in their
beds at night, and are missing in lite morning I
?cupluretl by Mosby. We have hunted liltn I
month niter month, but cannot curch him.
This house is one ol his stopping places, yet
we can never run 111 tu to earth. I tell yon
thai this rascally guerilla Mosoy has done the
Hulled Suites more real hurt than any one
division m the .Hebel army.
.My Inquisitorial friend boorishly l ook his de
parture.
The day wore slowly on aud Annie contrived
to see me. She was sad, very sad, ami I did
my best to comfort her. The dimpled hand
was clasped in mine; the fair head, with ils
wealth of rippling golden hair, rested on my
brensL Yei. the tears gathered in her eyes,
and when I entreated hei to tell me the cause
ot her distress she lore herself from my em
brace and lied from the room.
This sel. me to musing why a woman should
weep when she must ire perfectly happy.
My reverie was cut short by the abrupt en
trance ol the morose Lieutenant who, without
one word of preface, I old me Hud. in accordance
wii h the sentence 01 a regimental conrt-raartlal
held that, morning. I was to be ah ot as one of\
Mosby'ssples at sunrise the COininy day.
DE PKOFUXDIS !
My mind was so confused that it was long
ero 1 realized Ihe extent, of my (lunger. For
a time I could neither think nor determine ]
what, to do. Thenn thousand 111 ughis und 1
fancies chased each other through my brain, [
unlit it seemed that my senses were leaving
me. Soon I became more calm. It was clear
now that Annie had know a my doom, and the
guard til. my dour, touched perhaps, told me
ihat Uns bonnie girl of mine had so lor for
! g?lten her womanlydlflldenceand Southern
pride as to plead for my life, or at. least lor a
postponement ot the hour appointed tor my
execution. Her prayers were met with word's
ol insulting disdain. It grieved me sorely
that, lor my sake, she had ventured and borne J
so mudi. I blamed lier for what site hud (
done; yet loved her all the more.
si lie came to me ?gain, and for hours wo sat
together. The sweet misery of those last mo
ments must, live while lite slmll last. But iL
was now near sunset, and when day should
break I must die. I tore myself from my
sweet bei rol lied. The lirsl violence of her
grief had passed away, and :ts she glided from
the room, she whispered me to be hopelul
still. Poor child !
There were no relations, far or near, lo
whom I could write. Annie would tell my
friends?te'l them that I died like a soldier
with my lace to the foe.
Poor Charlie ! I did no: think to meet you
so suou.
Only a lev/ hours sleep and then -the firing
parly and eternal rest. It was strange that I
could be so calm. All my senses were pr?ter-1
naturally acme, ami I found myself trying
hard lo solve a psychological phenomenon?
myself. 1 knew t hai I was to die?yet it could
n?t be me. The soul which could not perish
seemed to watch with curious care the Liions
mid thoughts which flitted through the brain.
It was now quite dark and I threw myself I
upon my pallet and tried to sleep. Perhaps J
.slept?1 know nut. Certainly there was an
unusual noise in Ihe yard and one of lue I
soldiers was speaking:
'The cursed grey horse we captured from I
thai, rebel captain is broke loose again. Clean I
gone, saddle and bridle and all."
"No matler," said another, "I guess she
won't go far. and I he lieutenant won't want her
'till the shooting's done."
Thank God! thai Sultan was gone?gone
from these loaruuding rascals. Would I hat he
could fall Into ihe hands of the gallant Mosby !
I slept, soundly, and when I awoke il. was
nearly day. There was still ihe anguish ol
parting from her whom I so devotedly l.ved.
Why does she not come? She cannot allow
me to die wilhniil a word of farewell ! And yet
il might, tor her dear sake, be heller so. f'U
patienlly 1 walk up ami down Ihe room. !i. is
broad daylight. There is a knock at the door:
a corporal and a MI? of men await, me the
hour lias come ! N'ol a muscle quivers. My
step is firm. There shall be nothing in my de
meanor unworthy of a soldier cf the Confede
racy !
SHOT TO DKATll !
As I passed out cd the house, the faint edge
oi the morning sun tipped Ihe horizon. lie.
woods were Iresh ami green; the birds chirp*
ed their matin hymn; ad nature was beautiful
nutl serene. There, in frontofme, stand the
tiring party. A mound ol earl h and a deep
hole-I know what tor. Surely I do not
need a coflln as long as that, which lies near
where I soon shall lie ! In the brief space of
time consumed in walking to t,ho spot where
stand Lite llring party, a thousand thoughts
and memories sweep through my brain. All
tlto vows forgot and promises broken; the
faults rising to the bulk of mountains; the
good deeds sliritiklngfrom the range of vision.
Again, In thought,' I am uiuTor the ruddy folds
ol the llaz of tho South. Again I see the
sabres flash. I hoar the ring of steel. The
enemy break, and flee in confusion thromih
the tangled woods. Charlie rides by lny side,
as we otten rode before. 1 could swear that I
heard, in the dislance, th? Bouud ot horses'
hoofs.
They wanted to lie my hands and bandage
my eyes?that I could not bear. The first
warm rays ol>the sun were shining on my
head; I drank in the glorious light of Heaven.
I could dm, bat not in bonds like a felon .'
They worn twenty. I was alone, all alone.
The olllcer in commaud?he who shot poor
Charlie down?surlily granted my request,
t he firing party was formed, and the rille b Ir
rels glistened in the sun. I feared nothing,
hoped nothing, but Instinctively a prayer
would rise to my lips. With quickened pnlso i
wajted. These last moments are as conturics of
pam. Once more I thought i heard the clat
tering rattle of hoofs. Then the word Reaoy I
? I held my breath. Aim !?my thought, An
nie, Is oi God and thee. The ollleer opened
Ida lips for the last time-.
Thcru is a wild cheer nnd :i score 01 norse
imm, pistol in hand, clad In the beloved grey,
dasli iulo tii? yard. It was now man to mail,
ami no favors asked, and in loss time than it
takes to tell the lale, the Yankees worn fugi
tives or prisoners. One man lay in ilie broad
light; tho officer who commauded the tiring
party was shot to death. And It seemed all a
dream to me, until I heard Sultan's proud
whlnney. and an arm stole around my nock,
and sweet Annie's voice whispered?saved at
last !
All the now comers were splendidly mount
ed; each bl them wore a brace of army revol
vers. One of them was addressed as Major.
He rode n noble black horse, and the bright
keen face, the lithe form, the cool decision" of
his r~w brief words, ihe hat with its swopping
leather?all marked him as tho fur-famed
Mosby. i ongrutulutlng me heartily upon lny
narrow escape, lie told mo thai Annie hail
stolen away at night on my horse, aud had
warned hiiti of my danger, when he had husil
ly gathered u handful ol men together, and ar
rived In the nick of time.
There was no time to lose. All Ihe horse,
foot and dragoons in Lecsbtirg would soon In:
aller us. One of the captured horses was made
ready tor Annie, f mounted Sultan, and, after
a hasty visit to Charlie Vernon's grave, wo
moved towards Uppervillc. Annie decid
ed to remain with some friends In the
I.ma y Valley. There I left her and returned
to headquarters. No blame attached to me,
bat I leurnedolterwarilsinaiil l hud succeeded
in delivering rhat momentous dispatch the
campaign ofisei would not have been fought.
concmmon.
Mori than two years had elapsed. The war
was over. I had been hit twice or thrice, but
had no reason to complain. Charlie Venion
lay in Hollywood where wreathes of im
nioiidles and garlands of bright summer (lowers
caress Iiis modest tomb. And the girl whom
he loved so madly ? Well, as tile husband Is
the wife Is, and she's mated to n clown I
As lor myself, I have given up all hetorodo.v.
notions, and my dear wile, who Is looking over
me. as 1 write, grumbling because I don't write
more plainly, says that one modest paragraph
Irom the Richmond Dispatch, which she lias
carefully preserved, tells the sequel of my tide:
Un the 1st iii^tsnt, at St. Paul's Church. Rich
mond, by tho Rnv. Dr. Hinnlverode, Captain '. c.
Beveriey. Into 0. & A., to Miss Annie l.ylo, of Kan
qulcr county. Va.
M IIS. WIMBUSirS REVENGE
A S TOI: Y O 9 TU It ISE 0 BSTEMA Tl OKH.
IN SIX CHAITKUS.?CKAtTKR 1.
poor Mm. Marrables.! So young, loO?only
slx-and-tliirty, and very little the worse for
wear. A widow with the bloom oi youth siili
upon her cheeks, (spiteful people, who aged
faster, went so far as lo say Mrs. Marrables'.-.
bloom was like the innnna oi the Israelites?
"new every morning'"? but Ulis was malice,)
flaxen hair, gray-blue eyes; a small-boned
woman with a downy skin, and a figure, just
plump and no more, which would wear for
ever without spreading to obesity or middling
up into wrinkles. She had a daughter
oi eighteen, by name Matilda, less young,
in proportion to her years, than herself.
It is no ufiectatibn to say that the two'
women would pass anywhere lor sisters?Mrs.
Marrables as the elder by at most four or live
years. A stranger would really beIncredulous
us to the relationship between them being that,
of mother and daughter. Such a mistake,
when it Is made In favor of a woman who is
old, and looks if, is said to be not unpleasant
lo the omnivorous appetite for llattcry devel
oped in some of the sex by advancing years:
but to Mre/Marrobles it was most embarras*
liig. Sho was not old; she did not look it; and
the explanation Involved made the stranger
suspect, her ol being older than she really was.
But ler this, Mrs. Marrables might have mar
ried long before. She was never invited out
without her (laughter; ami whenever any
eligible gentleman began to pay lier the slight
est attention, some dear friend or other would
be certain lo whisper: "That is Matilda's
mother;" and of course there was on end ol it.
II. must not be concealed that mother and
daughter did not "hit it" very well together.
Mrs. Marrables resented lier daughter's very
existence, while Matilda could not but be scan
dalized at having so youthful a mother. It
was plain to Mrs..Marrables that, in order to
lier own success in life, her daughter must be
got rid of. People who arrive at such a deter
mination in novels, too often resort to crime
lo remove a person from their path. Hut Mrs.
Marrables went to church twice every Sunday.
At lost she married Matilda out of her way io j
one Mr. ?imbiish, a most respectable reined
corn-merchant of Illghgale. Poor Mrs. Mar
rables! How basely did Matilda return her
kindness. Twelve mouths aller her marriage,
everybody read in ihe Times. "The wife "of
Jetho Wiinbush, Esq., of a daughter." This
was too much. A grandmother at thirty-six !
A youthful, singing, waltzing grandmother,
whose very youtiUulnesR, taken in conjunction
with allot unnatural desire to gel married
ittrain, became a reproach in the eyes of all
right-thinking people.
" 'My dear, she is it grandmother," women
would say to one another; ainl how decolUiil
of her it- is lo look so young."
"Carries three generations remarkably
well/' said Ihn men; "but you know, old fel
low, she must be Jolly old."
CHAPTER H.
Seventeen ye .rs passed away, and still Mrs.
Marrtibles, to Ihe scandal of everybody, was as
young as ever, or nearly so, lo all appearance,
and ns single as ever, fit years she was fifty
three, mid of course onght to have dressed for
the part,, liut her whole manners, looting and
appearance were in ludicrous deilaneu of her
years, aud seemed palpably to refute l.lieiu.
Ha l sin-done anything wicked in her youth?
people whispered, and was il, a punishment?
Was she a wandering Jewess ? How could she
wear llaxcu huir and a chignon at her time of
life ? It was indecent, improper, scandalous !
She might at least take to caps, with a gray
front, ami corkscrew ringlets, and a piece of
narrow black velvet across lier forehead, for
the sake ot decorum. Then look at the way
she dressed ! Always in the fashion, stream
ing up the church aisles ou a Sunday, settling
Itersilks and laces and ribbons like ? girl. As
for her complexion. I heard one lady say :
"fileasyon, it isn't paint, and it can't be en
amel. I've fried iiul.li, and know how little
wear I here is in eil her. The woman is pelri
lled, oj|ulse embalmed. I'm sure ol I! , lor she
uses horning but violet powder."
Mrs. Miirnibles, or, us sue was commonly
called, Mrs. Evergreen, was not even en
gaged. There seemed a settled conviction In
thti minds ol eligible suitors that, since a man
may not many his own grandmother, the
golden rule of "Do unto others" ought to for
bid i hem from marrying other people's grand
mothers, Besides, what a horrible thing i'
was that tho woman wouldn't grow old ! it
must be wicked, if 'twas real.
Mrs. Marrables never forgave Matilda for
making her a grandmother. But Matilda did
not repeat the offene?. Mr. Wimbush died,
leaving his widow a respectable, maintenance
for herself and child. The child, Carry Wim
bush, had ;pnt short dresses to shame when
she was twelve. She ran up like a scarlet
runner. She ran right through by express
from childhood to womanrfbod. wilnout slop
ping at the intermediate station of giridoin.
At seventeen she was a grown woman of ma
ture experience, who had given up lllriinjr for
love, along with her other playthings, and was
ready calmly to discuss au offer of marriage
on the basis ol Us 'affording a good .ilrateglcal
position In the battle of Hie.
Here, therefore, we have Mrs. Wimbuali, a
comely widow, with a daughter somewhat
prematurely developed, on the one hand, and
with a mother persistently iuvenile and ever
green, on the oilier; Mrs. wlmbush and her
daughter Carry living together in Whittlmr
ton Lodge, HIghgale; Mrs. Marrables, the
youthful and the ungraudmotherly, dwelling
by herself at Taunton. and devoting her
time to collecting subscriptions foi' different
charitable objects, nut forgetting her own
rent--. Mrs. YVimbush Seldom corresponded
with her mother. They were on the best ol
terms now. yet, by a sun 01 tacit understand
ing, each pursued." Hie even tenor of her way,
very rarely interchonslngcc?tacles by post.
In the spring of 18(13, Mrs. Wiinbnsh .shut
up her house in lll$rhguie, and came with her
daughter to Bournemouth, where she hired a
villa. Many of her friends .were slaying at
Bournemouth, and. through the assistance oi
parlies and jaunts, anil picnics ami balls, she
made a great many more. Among these liio
Bronkshunks must be specially noticed ;ts par
ticularly Involved in this brief history.
Old Urookshank, (so everybody called him,)
a cheerful old person In thu shady side of six
ty, was very rich, but very unpresentable, in
the eye~i of the rather rigid socimy of the
place, lie hail made his money by the inven
tion of a patent medicine, familiar to us all by
the name of Brookshank's Infallible Oint
ment it brought him no end ol money. Bui.
although he lived lu a grand house m u fush
ibuabIU)Wuterlng-piacc. Re was stiii sole pro
prietor of the .Infallible Ointment, and his
London manufactory and depot was yet. in
fill working, with "Brookshnnk'1 over the
door, and pictures of people with sore limbs
i all dver the windows. All this, society might
i have winked at?might have admitted him
within Its doors upon sufferance, and pro
tended never to wako to the notion of a
'Granger present. In the gallery." But llio
worst of o d Br?oksh?nk wit:?, iluit net con
tent v.iiii living on ointment, he talked Oint
ment always. and puffed ii. everywhere. It.
was nqt hypocrisy: tile man be lie veil in il.
heart and soul, lie said he had a sacred
mission to alleviate Hie woes ol mankind, at
thirteen pence-halt penny the box; and he
! meant it. He believed iu all his testimonials -
more devoutly than the writers could have
j done. He was conscientiously ot opinion Hint
I hlsulntuien was. us he said, "good lor every
mortal complaint, Inside or out." He carried
bills With him everywhere, and distributed
I I hem ns zealously us though they had been
tracts. ''Shall t cease," said lie, "while a sin
gle fellow-crcaluro suffers agony that lean
cure?*' Society could not stand this;for the
man would have distributed his bills in every
: ball-room and at every soiree, and .never rest
ed till each guest was supplied with a picture
ol had legs and a siring of testimonials. He
believed iu his mission as much as Mohammed
did. He said he had committed many sins in
Ins life lime, but he trusted the good nls oint
ment had done to suffering humanity might,
be taken into account, when they were reckon
ed up. The ointment was Ids creed?the
ointment his extreme unction.
Brookshank's sisler.keptU* house; n Hille
faib'd old maid, whobellev< d lu-him its inueh
as he did In hlinsell; who would uiov? soll?y
in his presence, Irow a reverend regard Lu
the great healer of I he people; who would
place his hist published lesUiuoulals in her
hymn book,-und read them ou Sundays witti
every appearance of devouthesa?offering op
thanks irom lier simple heart. lor the sfOOd
works he had been u abliHl to do; Brookshunk
had two sons, both gelling; on toward middle
ai?e. Thomas, tlio eldenc, it survenu with :?
'capital pracUce, usiii hi declare.tlutt half hi.s
cases among the poor u e;-e thosu of people suf
fering from I he effects of the Infallible Oint
ment; though of course he only said so louw-c
h'sauul, Iiis brother, Charles, was a lawyer
of good position und good circumstances.
Neither was married; people said they were nut
marrying men. What blunders people make,
sometimes, on tbis score.
ciiAnvit m.
It was strangn wind, an Impression .Mrs.
Wlmbush seemed to make on those two men.
She met them everywhere, and thu attentions
they paid her were plainly marked by some
thing wanner than politoiiess. Presents, too
j ? lluwcrs and hot-house trull?found their way
bot ii from Mr. Tom and .Vir. Charles to thu
widow's table. Ol the two. Mr. Tom was by
lar the most iu earnest. Yet she loured to en
courage eil her, and for some lime preserved
an altitude of strict neutrally between the
rival powers, and could conscientiously report
j thai she was on terms ol t he closest friendship
'with each of the belligerents; the fact being
that the key of her Impartiality was less a mai
ler of stmtinicnt than a d?sire to ascertain the
relaiive standing of the two brothers In ihe
; eyes of I heir lather with regard to tilture con
tingencies.
ii was nol long before she had an opportu
nity of satisfying herself on this point;. The
slnoero admiration she prcicSRtl for the In
fallible Ointment made obi brookshank's sis
ter, her sincere Irlend for life, and Mrs. Wlm
bush became a visitor at I he big house. She
soon found lliai, old Brookshaiik had a bad
opinion of his eldest son. Tom. Partly, |eal
ousy of a man who professed lit- art oI neal
ing as derived Irom books, and express!*!
scepticism as to the Inspiration of the oint
ment, ami partly distrust of a man who might
Hud oui ils sacred ingredients, and hold ihetu
up io public derision, contributed to his b id
opinion. Tom was a heretic, und an unbe
liever in the Urookshank creed?a scoffer at
the best ruithentlcated testimonials?and held
the government stump in open contempt.
Charles was not t?. Hard man of law
though he wa", he consumed quanLiUes
ot the ointment, or prolessed to do so. and
always said it did him good. Mrs. Wlm
bush would lalk ointment by tho hour with
old Urookshank, and consequently became a
great favorite, besides gollliijj the credit lor
being a most discriminating woman. The old
man would even go so taras to show her his
unpublished testimonials, and produce great
bundles oflelters in praise ol hlinsell and med
icine. These the widow would peruse with an
exhibition of rapt interest, which was certain
ly very edifying Working on the confidence
so obtained, she gathered very clearly that the
younger sou would inosl likely come in lor the
largest share of the unguent property. Thai
being satisfactorily ascertained, .Mrs. Wlm
bush wanned perceptibly in her manner in
ward Mr. Charles, the lawyer, and Irozo In llie
same proportion in thu aspect she preseuteil
10 Mr. Tom, I lie doctor. The result was some
thing of an estrangement between the bintn
ers. Tom felt ihe irealmenr, but delennined
to know his l'aie. H" came 10 the widow's
house, ami. vvlih rery little preface, made lier
an offer?plump.
Beally, Mr. Tom,'? said Mrs. Wlmbush,
' you entirely surpriso me. Surely, I eau have
given you no encouragement to?to hope?
tiii-.t?-"
'.Mrs. Wiinbu-li." .said Mr. Tom, *".7o are
neit her of us chickens." (the widow winced.)
"although, doubtless, I am a good deal the
older ol the two. I am nor sentimental, not
romantic; so pardon my plain s|N.-aking. With
regard to encouragement, you have given me
quite enough m justify my puffing the ipies
lion?not enough, perhaps, to warrant my ex
|M!Cllng a favorable answer. Tin- plain question
is, Will you marry me, Tom Ihookshiink. .' !.
I)., aged forty-two??a man, though 1 say it.
who wont make a bad husband, as husbands
go."
The widow looked down, nn.1 twisted her
handkerchief around her lingers, plait ng i. in
knots upon her lap. but did no. reply.
Mr. Tom looked Into bis lie.! ami then onl
ol the window. Then ii" said: P.tr.lmi me;
am I loo late? is there a prior attachment?"
Without venturing a reply hi speech. Mrs.
Wiinbnsh bowed her head
Mr. Tom slowly gat hered together his hat,
bis siiok and his iloves, aud went oui. dm
lound iliiti brolherol mineP'said hetoT.lm
self when be go! Into ihe "Always
supplanting me.
CHAPTER
It was a large picnic party. M'-. Charles
Brookshauk had drawn Mrs. Winibush's an ;
through hii own, and swolh'd nway t'roiu llio
re?!.
"How delightful it would be It on3 could
know the language of birds, as folks did lu
the old Hindoo fairy tales ! Would It not, Mr.
Brookshank ?"
"My dear Mrs. Wimbush, they do nothing
the whole day long but make love and cry,
'Swe?r, sweet !' I woi.ld I were a bird, to
make love In music."
The widow sighed, b it was more like a
purr of pleasured
"What, kid I know of love till you came
here?" continued; Mr. Charles. Absolutely
nothing?"except," he added with r?servation,
"in aprolesslonal way. And then we lawyers
generally see the dark side of the picture?the
damages and the decrees nisi But vour visit
has brightened my whole life. 0, Mrs. Wira
bush. you cannot have been blind to my secret.
You huve seen it written legibly in my face,
and have not interposed to cheek Its develop
ment. I see you understand me, just as by
inntitive line, leelln? you can penetrate the
meaning of Mendelssohn's songs, without
words. Mrs. Wimbush, you huvo already far
advanced toward learning the birds' language
I may rely upou your cotisent?"
"Chartes, this happiness is Indeed too much,"
fjaculatedthe widow;
"You need notu be separated from your
daughter Carry. A homo Tor one is a homo for
both; and I will cherish nor while I live."
Bur.. Charles, dear, she may marry."
"Marry, ma'am ? Bless my .soul, of course
she will She will marry mo! She has said
SO, don'r. you see ?"
Mrs. Wimbusli ntvorsaid another word, but
fell il.it down upon ibe grass;
"What on eartn has trot into the woman ?"
thought Mr. Charles. " "She could'ot have
taken it worse if I had proposed to murder her
daughter.
In their walk they lied strayed through tho
treus'close to the outskirts of another picnic
party. Mr- Charles immediately ran to ask
soiii? loir volunteer to come to the assistance
ot Urs. Wimbusli. who had falnlcd. At hear
ing the- name, an active, middle-aged holy
sprung up and followed him. It was Mrs.
Marrables. The sight ol her mother brought
Mrs. Wimbush round quickerthauany amcll
iug-boftle could have done. She sat up.
Mother, , Mr. Brookshank ; Mr. Brook
shank, my mother, Mrs. Marrablus." They
bowed. ' Have rhu'goodness to leave us to
gether, Mr. Charles."' lie uowecfand obeyed.
"Mother," said Mrs. Wimbusli, "what en
earth brought you hero ? I thought you were
at Tuunton."
"No dear. I have been at. Bournemouth
three weeks. I eatue-merely for change. Only
last week I heard of your being here, and
should have came, bill J havo been so much
occupied, and 1 tell sure ol meeting you some
where, and thought the siir-nris-tmight be the
more agreeable. We've had a most delightful
picnic Cvii.li the llountstewart folks. But what,
was all Uds fuiiuiugaboui? Ouo would tnin:;
Mr. Brooksliauk had been proposing to you."
"lie certainly made me a \trop08uL, mother,
but I was quite unprepared for it, and was
overcome.'*
"What an imaginative and sensitive-minded
girl you must be. Matilda ! You make me feel
quite young. When will.von he old enough to
attend to bnsihess? You will accept him, of
course ? Well, do as you please; yoir may
reckon on my consent, you know. But I must
get back to my party, and perhaps you had
belter rejoin yours Ta-ta."
Jilted lor her daughter ! It wasn't pleasant.
When Mrs. Wimbusli got homo she blew up
Carry for being so sly.
"Well, mamma," said Carry, "of course 1
thought you knew all about, it. 1 never made
any secret ot the a Hair. I knew very well
tliitr you had rejecled Mr Tom, bid I could not
possibly suppose that was any reason why I
should refuse Charles. Of course, he is older
than I am, but he is only fivc-and-lliirly, and
has a good position; ami I tun sure we shall
always give you a welcome; Charles said so."
Well." thought Mrs. Wimbusli. "he has
money, and li will be all in the family; that's
at iea.ii. a comfort.''
UUAPTKB \\
Tito effect of the little episode of the last
chapter was that tho brothers were made
friends, and Tom recovered his spirits, and
could laugh heartily at what ho had before
supposed was his brother's rivalry.
Mr.-;. Wimbusli repeuted her Hint sin? had re
jeeted Mr. Tout, lier repentance produced a
suliiiar) desiru ou her paiiJo make'alouemer.t
for the past. She would have him yet. When
a widow says so much us that about a man,
Id him 'ware the Imsvk.
A motu h went by, and behold Mrs. Wim
busli ami Mr. Tom Brookshank sealed tete-a
Lete at mi evening party, where the music
which was going on was suCicleiitly loud to
render private conversation inaudible save to
those to whom it was addressed.
' I fear," said tho widow, tuTcctlng an ab
sei) I; matitier, [ treated you very unkindly,
Mr. Tom. You look me so entirely by sur
prise, that, reiMly, I?hardly know what I
said. 1 have been very unhappy about it?
very."
Forgotten anil lorglven," whispered Mr.
Toni.
How generous of you; you make me so
glad: because, now that your brother Charles
is going to' marry my daughter, we shall be in
some sort related, and 1 could not bear you to
think unkindly of me."
No," said Mr.- Tom, fidgeting a little; "f
shall never do lhat."
'How droll !" said I ho widow. "Let me see.
?'bat will tho relationship be ? You will be my
son-in-law's brother, and consequently I shall
be your mother-in-law once removed. You
will'have a mother younger than yourself, Mr.
Tom. 1 hope you will not presume upou her
youth to l>e a bad boy."
"All this is very ue," he ansive-ed; "but 1
see Lhe relationship In a tar lUff -it iighL 1
sli&ll be your tuiher-in-law, and consequently
my own brother's grnnillailier-in-law."
"Yoti mistake, Mr. Tom. Dou't you see Unit
if Carry"?
"No mistake at all about it, ma'am, for I've,
promised to marrv your mother. Mrs. Msr
ntbles !"
"Monster," cried Mrs. Wimbusli aloud, and
went oil' shrieking.
The music stopped, and (here was a great
fuss. But above "all the others was heard lhe
voice of Mrs. Marrables. "Don't be alarmed,
pray. She is subject to it; she went ofl'Jusl.
like' it tho other day at a picnic. Poor young
Urine, very little upsets Iter. Let me come to
ray ill lie gu-tirl theu."
They moved her into another room. Pres
ently Mrs. Wimbusli opened her eyes. ' Moth
er! ITow dare you come near-mo ! Go away,
do ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself at
your time ol life !"
"Mil time of life ! Why, I'm only fifty-fotu*
?about ten years older limn Tom. iiow can
you talk so to your mother ?"
"Mother, if you don't leave l he room, 1 will.
It's really disreputable to have you lor a moth
er. You've never done me any credit."
My dear; I am so glad In think you feel
well enough to leave Ute room, that t will re
main."
Mrs. Wimbusli got up ami won; home. ^
CnAPTKU VI.
Jilted, first for her daughter, anil next, for
her mether: This was too much. Mrs. Wim
bush went to Church as regular as any one, but
revenge, alter all, Is very sweet.
Six weeks afterward, Mrs Wimbush recov
ered sitUicicnt fortitude lo go and call on her
mother.
Well,child, I'm glad you are going tob?
friendly; theru In noihlng like harmony In a
family circle. Let us consider the reiation
rdtlpsinto which wenre about to enter, thai
we may rightly Judge of our responsibilities
anil duties. I and my granddaughter are
going io marry i wo brothers?I he consequence
Is, plu; and t will l.esisters-in-law. Bur. ns you
are mother to my slsier-bi-law, you will nearly
be my nioihorrin-law, which is nrvery singular
relationship for a rianuhter to sustain toward
her mother, especially when she is not I ho
wife ol one's fttiher-iti-lnw. Now. as'1
Wait.a moment, dear mamma; I've news
lor you; I'm going to marry old Onguent ! Old
Mr. iSiiiukshattk has asked tao to be his wile,
and I've consented. The consequence Is, I
sln-il be head or I he family, nnd bona ?in molli
er-ln-hiw to you tali. I don't think we need
trouble siboitt htirninny, for v.o shall be a
Uiiifv?JhiiiUff, more so iliap. any I know off."
Ueiorc her marriage, Mrs. idarrable? set to
work lo draw up a fable of the relationships
involved by the ili reo weddings, i; isan ex
tensiv? work In three volume*, and when our
readers see TheJirookshank Ftimi'ij a?vori la
nd, they will know what it means.?Olvtinbers'*
? A new ticket printing trachine, v.-iiich ha!
jm-theen patented In Engmml and Prussia,
piints railway tickets on both side?, perforate!
them, and numbers them consecutively i>.\
one juoeos?. and doc3 all this at lhe rah; o
two hundred a minute.
THE ZONDOXlCLVB HOUSES.
Wondrous Splendnr^and Luinrjr.
Club life has attained itslgrcateat perfection
in London. No.'cityiupon the continent can jj
j compare with It for ihe number of Its club- .
houses, the splendor of their architecture, their |
luxurious furniture, aad the standing In society
of their members. There are upwards of fifty -3
clubs In London, in which all the profession? g
and all the stations of life find representation,
with a roll of perhaps 45,000 members. The
folio win <: are the principal clubs, with the cost
of ground and construction:
Army and Navy Olub, George's street, it. I
James Square, 1450 members, ?100,000 (1500,- "
000;) the Conservative Club. St James street,
l5uu members, ?81,000; G?rrlck Club, King |
street, Covent Garden, 600 members. ?35.000; ;
Junior United Service Club, corner of diaries *';
and Uegent streets, '1500 members, ?76,000; i
Oxford and Cambridge Club, Pall Mali, 1200
members, ?100,000; Reform Club, 1400 mem- .
Iiers, ?120,000; University Club, Pall Mall East, 3
f>00 members, ?20,000; Wyndham Club, St. j
James Square, 600 members, ?30,000;' West- I
minster, Alb'ermarle street, 610 members,
?15.000; Atheomum, Pall Mall, 1300 members, a
?00,000; Carlton, Pull Mall, 800 members, ?10,- 1
lino: CJnards Hall, Pall Mall, 600 members, M
?40.000; Oriental, Hanover. 800 members, -fE
?:J.0,000 ^Travellers', Pall Mall, 700 members, '9
XUO.OOO; Union, Cockepur street, 1000 mem- M
tiers, ?25,000; United Service Club, Pall Mall, '1
1.-.00 members. ?70.000; White's Club, St. }
James street. 550 members, ?15,000; Caven- -
dish.Ciub, 207 Regent street, 500 members,
?111.000, and Civil Service Club, 86 St. -James
street, 1000 members. ?45,000.
Each member is elected by ballot, and pays ?
an entrance on admission, and afterward an 5
annual subscription, which varies, like en
trance ices, in different clubs. Thus In the
Athenicum the entrance iee is ?26 5sr, about
$1^0, annual subscription ?6 Cs., 131.
When clubs were first started they were re
carded with much hostility ub being antago
nistic to domestic life, and the ladles displayed .
an Intense sprirlt against them. The clubs,
however, survived and nourished under their
enmity, and it was found lhattbey discouraged
coarse drunkenness, the prevalent Vice ot I
Englishmen; encouraged social Intercourse, of ;
which ladies partook elsewhere; refined the
manners of the members, constituted courts
of honor, and tended most materially toj.the
ilu; manufacture of gentlemen.
Tho London clubs are private hotels on a
vast and magnificent scale. They have bil
liard ; rooms, coffee rooms, nlnepln rooms,
splendid libraries, saloons, furniture and plate,
cf the costliest and rarest description. All the
refreshments: which a member has, whether
breakfast, dinner, supper or wine, are furn
ished to him at the market cost price, alt other J
expenses being defrayed from tho annual sub- I
scripi ions. For a few pounds a year advanta- s
res are to be had which no incomes but tho
most ample could procure. The Athenaeum, '
which consists of twelve hundred members,
can be taken as a good example of the rest. *
Among the members may be reckoned a large
proportion of the most eminent persons In ?
Euirland-civil and military and ecclesiastical?
peers, spiritual and temporal, commoners,
men of the learned' professions, those connec
ted with the sciences and arts and commerce,
as well as th? distinguished who do not belong
to any particular class, and who have nothing
to do but ltve on their means, bore their
lallors, and admire their family genealogy and
. their own figures. These men are to be met
with day alter day at tho clubs, living with
wore freedom and nonchalance than they
could at their own houses. For six or eight
guineas ($30 to $40) a year every member has
the command of an excellent library, with
maps, the daily London papers, English and
foreign periodicals, and every material far
writing, with a flock of gorgeous flunkies in
powder and epnulettes to attend at the nod of
a member, and a host of youthful pages In but
tons and broadcloth. The club Is a sort ot
palace with the comfort of a private dwelling,
ami every member Is a master without having
a master's trouble. He can have whatsoever
meat or refreshment served up at all hours -
with luxury and dispatch. There is a fixed
place for everything, and It Is not customary
to remain long at table. You can dine alone,
or you can invite a dozen persons to dine with
you, females being excluded. From an ac
count kept tu. the Alhenseum for one year, it
appears that 17,333 dinners cost on an average
2s. o.Jd. each (about CS cents.) and the average
quantity of wine drank by each person at these
dinners was a small fraction: more than a : pint
each. The bath accommodations are the finest
(hat can be imagined. The kitchens of the
London clubs cannot be equalled in the world;
aud the chief cooks, who have charge of the
kitchen?, have each a European fame. Alexis
Soycr,' the greatest cook since Ude or Vatel,
hnd lor a long time the charge of the kitchen
ol the Reform Club, and the kitchen of their
club, of which John Bright and all the leaders
of I he English Liberals are members, is the
finest In London.
There Is a cheerful air, an air of raagnltl
cence about these superb kitchens which
would charm a good-housewife. Here "all the
genius which can be brought to bear upon
cooking is concentrated; and the head cook
would not deign lo notice any person of less
rank than a baronet while in superintendence.
Although there are 1200 members, he Is not
responsible to any individual one, and the
only authority In the club to which he has to
bow Is the eight or ten members of the house
committee, whose decrees even to this being
are arbitrary. The pots and pans are of an
exceeding brightness, and the entire system
Is perfect. In one corner of the kitchen Is a
little stall, or counting-house, at the desk of
which sits the clerk of the kitchen. Every day
the chlel cook provides, besides ordinary pro
visions, which are certain to be required, a se
lected list which lie iuserts In. his bill of fare?
a list which is* lei I to Ids judgment and skill.
8ny three or four.gentlemen, members ol tho
club, determine to dine there at a given hour;
lhey select from the bill of fare, or make a
separate order*' it preferred, or leave the
dinner altogether to the Intellect of the chef,
who 1s sure to be flattered by this dependence
on his judgment. A little slip of paper, on
which are written the names of the dishes and
the hour ot dining, Is hung on a hook in the
kitchen, ou a blackboard, where there are a
number of books devoted to different hours of
the day or evening. The cooks proceed w?th
i.heir ordinary avocations, and by the time
the dinner is ready the clerk ol the kitchen has
calculated aud entered the exact value of
every article composing it, which entry Is
mode ont in the form of ? bill?the cost price
being Huit by which the charge is regulated;
nothing is ever charged for the cooking. Im
mediately at ihe elbow of the clerk are bells
and speaking tubes, by which he can commu
nlcntu with the serrants in other parts of the
building. Meanwhile a steam engine is
serving up" the dinner. In one corner of
kitchen is a recess, on opening a door In which
we gee b small platform, square-shaped, cal
culated lo hold an ordinary size tray. This
platform is connected with the shall of a steam
engine by bauds and wheels, so as to be ele
vated through a kind of vertical trunk leading
to the upper part ?i the building, and here are
the white aproned servants or waiters ready to
take out. the hot and luscious-smelling viands
from the platform to the member or members
of ihe club who me anxiously awaiting dinner.
?Tue cactus fence is au institu?on peculiar
lr> Mexico. Tlfe variety of the plant used for
this purpu.se is called the organo. It la eJght
sided, and shoots upstrargfat as an arrow, from
teu to twenty-live feet in heigh: and five tu
eight inches "in thickness The lence-bullders
cut Ihe cretas in sections ot the right length,
stick the cut end into a trench, cover the earth
around it, in the depth ol n foot, and the lence
Is made. The pieces are set as closely together
us possible, nnd as they lake root and grow for
Centuries, Hie fence improves with age, iu
steud of going to decay like other lences.
A gentleman asked a clergyman thefcseof
his pulpit lor a young divine, a relative ol his.
I'rraby do not know," said the clergyman,
' how lo refuse yen; but if ihe young man can
preach belter (ban 1 can, my congregatloa
would he dissatisfied with nie atterwards; and
if he should preach worse, I don'i think he Is
lit in preach at'all."
I ?Sunday and Saturday, the two favorite
days for marriage in England, are blank days
i lor marriage in' Scotland. Friday .is the day
on which the English do not marry; but In
f I Scotland it is one of tho favorite "days lor
marriage.